


The Red Rot of Stars

by foxjar



Category: The Monstrumologist Series - Rick Yancey
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Injury, M/M, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22938085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: A goose is loose in Dr. Warthrop's lab.
Relationships: Will Henry/Pellinore Warthrop
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14
Collections: Writing Rainbow Red





	The Red Rot of Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheeon/gifts).



It is when Will is closest to falling asleep — to dreaming of an endless supply of fresh scones and a pot of soup so large that he could swim in it — that Dr. Warthrop calls for him. His cries almost seem to shake the walls of the house, weaving their way through the wood, but Warthrop would call that nonsense. A trick of the malnourished, exhausted mind.

"And whose fault is that?" Will mumbles to himself as he makes his way down to the lab. The room is a mess — more so than usual, anyway — with tools littering the floor and his stool knocked over.

There, trotting around the very exam table where Will first began to lose what little remains of his humanity, is a goose. It honks at him in greeting, darting beneath the table and just out of reach from the doctor's clutches.

Breathless, Dr. Warthrop stands up, straightening his back as if he hadn't been chasing a goose mere moments before. His dark hair is damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, and Will has to hide a smile at the state of him after his failed attempt to retrieve the sneaky goose.

"Why is there a goose in the lab, Will Henry? For I do not remember being in need of one, nor do I have any recollection of transporting it down to my place of work."

Dr. Warthrop eyes Will with suspicion; even if Will wasn't the culprit, he would be prepared to scold him, all the same. But Will admits the truth about how the butcher had ended up with a surplus of geese somehow, how he had begged Will to take one. Just one. They were running amuck on his farm, and he just didn't know what to do with all of them. So Will, being the kind soul that he is, relieved the man of a single goose.

But he swears he left it outside with the goats.

"Yes. Outside. I see." Dr. Warthrop nods as if deep in thought, but Will knows what's coming next: the vague insinuations that the intelligence of his loyal assistant just happens to be subpar. "And yet that does not explain how the animal was able to make its way into the house. Am I correct in this deduction, Will Henry?"

"I agree, sir, but I think we should catch it."

"Are you getting smart with me, Will Henry? Is that a smirk I see on your face?"

"Yes, sir. I mean no, sir. The goose is making off with your specimen."

The goose has crept past the doctor to snatch what he had been studying — the rare bones of Champtanystropheus americanus — and Dr. Warthrop yelps.

"Don't just stare at it, Will Henry! Capture the fiend!"

Will backs the goose into a corner of the lab, feeling quite smug at his ability to do so. He'll show Dr. Warthrop how dependable he can be, how absolutely indispensable he is — but when he reaches for the goose, it drops the bone, preferring to snap at Will's hand. It clamps onto him, and he feels his head whirr with pain; still, the goose refuses to release him. His vision is swimming, blurring the image of the goose in front of him, and he's sure this is it: the end of William James Henry, done in by the likes of a goose.

He feels arms around him, cradling him; the embrace of an angel, perhaps, ready to spirit him away to the beyond. The stairs creak and groan beneath them in their flight, and he thinks about how strange that is. An angel should be flying, after all, not stepping on solid ground as mere mortals do.

Before long, he is set on the couch in the sitting room with a cool cloth on his forehead. His hand still aches, but he isn't dizzy like he was before.

When Will opens his eyes, he sees Dr. Warthrop holding his injured hand, pressing a kiss to it, lips brushing over his wound. His lips are soft but strange; Warthrop has never done anything quite like this before. Will pretends to still be out of it, squeezing his eyes shut, when in truth he keeps them open just a sliver. But he can't keep the facade up for too long, not with this closeness, this skin on skin touch that he hasn't experienced in what feels like a lifetime. When he finally opens his eyes, the doctor is staring down at him, face calm after the excitement of the morning.

"The goose is gone. It has fled outside, back to the company of the goats," Dr. Warthrop announces with a hint of pride in his voice. "In some cultures, the goose is a symbol of courage and loyalty. And I know none other more loyal than you, Will Henry."

"Are you saying that the goose was a sign, Dr. Warthrop, sir?"

"A sign? Where do you get these fanciful ideas?" Warthrop waves away the thought with his hand as if he hadn't been the one to imply such a connection. "It is a mere coincidence. But I mean to say that you are brave, Will Henry. Perhaps more brave than I will ever be, in some ways. Although far more foolish in others. Do you understand what I mean?"

Will shakes his head. "No, sir. I don't believe that I do understand."

Warthrop brings Will's hand to his lips again, and he can feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. It's such an oddly intimate touch, so unusual for the doctor to be showing him such kindness, that he cannot suppress the shudder that slips down his spine. He can see the shortest of his fingers, which Dr. Warthrop had severed years ago in an attempt to save his life. Will never did find out if he had been infected — if the pwdre ser had indeed made its way into his bloodstream — but he had asked the doctor to not divulge the truth to him. And he had kept that promise; despite his insatiable urge to rant about his work for hours on end, he had always respected that.

In a way, Will Henry does understand what Dr. Warthrop means: not everything that falls from the stars is rot.

**Author's Note:**

> [Champtanystropheus americanus: North American lake monster.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Champ_\(folklore\))


End file.
